The One that You are Looking For
by Dumbledoor
Summary: All-human oneshot. One afternoon while hiding from her personal assistant, celebrity Bella Swan meets Edward Cullen, college student. Basically a conversation that happens in a library.


NOTE: ALL THE SCIENCE STUFF? PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY; THIS IS SOLELY FICTION. ALSO, I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN TO THE NY PUBLIC LIBRARY.  
SEA WOLF OF COURSE OWNS "YOU'RE A WOLF"; I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GOOD THINGS THAT MAKE PEOPLE RICH.  
STEPHENIE MEYER OWNS _TWILIGHT_ AND ANY INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY ASSOCIATED WITH IT :)

* * *

□▫▪■□▪▒**T**HE ON**E T**HAT YOU ARE L**OO**KING F**O**R▪■□

I darted past the early morning crowd. Rushers and the smell of coffee assaulted my senses, and I experienced for the first time what it was like to _really_ walk down a street. It's not pleasant, for, while I was aware of the buildings that surrounded me, I had to keep my head up, my eyes looking straight forward, and my feet hitting pavement in quick succession.

I passed by some pretty nice shops I suppose; I even saw me on a billboard at Times Square. Birds eating crumbs, smoke coming from random potholes because of broken water pipes, girls wearing fashion, lots of sunglasses, the smell of honey peanuts, the urban details go on and on...

Pretty soon, I was growing tired and nervous because I felt like I was walking and walking with nowhere to go.

Where would that goddamn Jasper _not_ find me? The Post Office? Maybe, but what the hell would I do in there for a whole day?

I waltzed in a Duane Reade, sighing when the automatic glass doors slid open and I felt the air conditioner's effect.

"Hmpf," I said quietly. Not quite what I had in mind.

My phone rang in my back pocket. The screen indicated that Jasper was calling again. I ignored the call, turning it to silent instead.

The sidewalks still emanated this city noise that refused my concentration. I kept right on walking, hoping to God I wouldn't be disturbed by anyone.

I turned to the left, following the group of Asian tourists a little ways off. They looked like a pack of students, all skinny by today's standards, relatively well-dressed in colorful layers, each of them either holding a camera or slinging a messenger bag which held his recording device. Oh, don't forget the spiky hair on some of them. So, with my very stereotyped/very NOT model-worthy skills of deduction, I followed the group of friends.

They detoured to a couple of cathedrals, the occasional souvenir-galore stores, and I stalked them until they passed by the Library.

The New York Public Library. A place to which no one, especially not personal assistants like Jasper, ever goes anymore. Perfect.

I walked in. It was a little too quiet compared to the outside. I guess no one really does go here, and it was a Saturday.

I explored around, ignoring the smiling librarian, and made my way to the more secluded part (from several people to _no_ people occupying the room). I settled myself standing against a particularly boring shelf. Finally.

"A-_ha_!" A triumphant, devious-sounding gasp suddenly shot from behind me. Startled, I straightened up, shooting two glances left and right. Whom I saw made me scowl and sigh.

He wasn't Jasper but a boy, a young-looking man actually, who was so immersed with his notebook he didn't even realize a stranger (me) was standing there, ready to hear his every exultation or epiphany.

I observed him with curiosity. He wasn't looking at me at all. He wore a victorious grin, and it was his beaming face that made me scowl, because why the hell was he so happy when I was having a shitty day?

"I got it," he murmured to himself, nodding to the same person in approval. His pale yellow pencil scribbled smartly on his notebook, which I now saw had absolutely all writing on the page.

He must have sensed someone's stare at him. He looked up and his eyes widened briefly as he looked at me.

I felt self-conscious for openly staring, but I didn't stop. I was fascinated by his little victory; I wanted to watch further along the process.

"Um," he said, unsure, "Hi?" He put his hand down but didn't let go of the pencil. "Can I help you?"

I was stunned he didn't recognize me. I shook my head, even more interested. "What were you doing there?" I asked cautiously, because I just then realized how ridiculous and creepy I must seem.

His reaction showed it, too. He laughed shyly, if one does, and tried to explain. "Oh. Uh, I just finally came to a reasonable answer to this one problem my professor gave. We were supposed to find out the maximum distance, if there is one, that a certain virtual particle could go before it decays. I've been solving this since eight this morning and I've been coming back to infinity, which didn't make sense, because it _has _to have a limit at once it reaches a certain time or mass." He inhaled loudly, which made me smile.

"Um, does this have something to do with physics?"

"Yeah... it's Einstein." His eyebrows were quirked, and I felt even further out of place now.

I laughed nervously, revealing my scientific ignorance.

"E equals em see squared?" he tried.

"I'm not a science major," I snapped.

He chuckled for the first time, and I mentally sighed. So he _did_ have a friendly side.

"Are you a student?" he inquired, and such an innocent question almost broke my heart.

"No," I admitted, looking down at his closed textbook. Its title was _Newtonian Physics and Beyond: Calculus to Quanta_.

He must've seen my sullen glare. "Did I... did I offend you?"

Just your apparent smartness, really; other than that, no, you're quite non-offensive to behold.

I bit my lip. "I wish I was," I managed to slip out.

"Wish you were what?"

"A student."

His eyes widened and he leaned back; that had surprised him. He cleared his throat. "Well, it's never too late. You look young—"

I scoffed. "OK, _that_ offended me. I'm twenty years old, I _should_ look young. That's how I get pa—" I stopped myself before I ranted off and vented to this boy (young man).

He looked at me sharply. His scrutiny made me nervous. "You're a model?" he guessed.

I blew a breath, ending it with my answer. "Not really, more like an actress. If you can call it that."

His narrowed eyes became calculating, darting glances at the computers around us. "If I type your first name on Google, will _your _full name be one of the popular searches listed?"

I coughed uneasily. "What? Um, I don't know, maybe." His eyes widened, almost as if in panic. "Wait! Ah... What's your name?"

He looked confused. I understood him at that moment because we were confused at the same time.

"It's Edward. Edward Cullen." A second later, he held out his hand.

"Bella," I took his hand. "Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan," he repeated musingly. "I must've seen that name somewhere."

"Do you know who Mike Newton is?" Mike Newton was known as the "All-American Boy". He's starred in movies that were adapted from bestselling novels, he was always seen at ceremonies, and he never misbehaved. Despite his very clean, non-celebrity behavior, his career as a young hot actor kept skyrocketing. Jasper told me I was actually lucky I co-starred with him on a movie once, because his success only ricocheted to me since. He's all right; good kid, in a Taylor Swift kinda way.

"Who?" Edward asked.

My eyebrows scrunched together, because the only way he could not know Mike Newton was if he lived in a cave. Or his mom's basement.

"Mike Newton?" His face did not indicate any knowledge or familiarity. "Ever watched The Adventures of Wicked Wickham? Electric Hunt? _Television_?"

"You mean the _actual_ television or is that a name of a movie?"

I whistled in disbelief. "I'm actually a little jealous of you now."

"What does Mike Newton have anything to do with _you_?" He narrowed his eyes, warning me not to insult him.

I shrugged. "Well, if you don't know Mike Newton, who is maybe more famous than Tom Cruise now, then there's no way you'd know _me_."

"Don't believe that," he argued, but hesitated. "Well, I don't know. Maybe I'll take your word for it." He slumped his back on the wooden chair, and I guessed this was the first time he did this judging by the tired look on his eyes. "I must seem... _not _normal to you, Bella."

"No, I sort of wish I have your life now. You're obviously smart," I pointed out. I leaned on the chair myself, and once again said, "I wish I lived your life."

"What life?" He snorted, chucking his pencil on the table. I thought it would roll off the table, but it stopped at the very edge. "I just sat here for five hours straight solving a problem that my classmates could calculate in _minutes_."

"I'm sure that's not true." But really I wasn't sure because it wasn't my place to say such things, just like he had no clue what is the standard regarding movie-watching.

We stayed silent for a while. It felt nice, in a heart-pounding way. Here was a sweet guy, good-looking too, and here I was, and it was nice to relate to a peer. I've been on interviews, I've been on Oprah and MTV, I've even "written" an autobiography, but damn, this self-evaluation was so bizarre; it felt so _deep_. This incomparable experience was humbling yet reassuring and I would never put it on my resume.

He cocked his head to the side. "So you're really in movies?"

I nodded.

"Do you think _I'll_ like 'em? Judging by what you see, at least."

"Hmm," I contemplated. My silence made him nervous, I was sure, so I voiced my thoughts. "First, I have to figure out: what _do _I see?" I smiled at him, letting him know I mean no harm. "I see a genius boy who'll probably someday make the biggest bomb or the next greatest computer chip, feel free to take your pick."

He blushed. Was I flattering him?

"You really care about your work, because why else would you stay here when there's such a nice day outside? So your shyness maybe just hides that passion you feel for your study."

Edward looked up at me, green eyes wide. There was that confusion again, but his tone was light when he spoke. "Bella," he interrupted my flow of words.

I blinked. "Yeah?" Oh, God. I hadn't spoken like that since I was twelve, back when everyone who knew me only called me "Bookworm Bella".

"I think..." He swallowed and I watched his throat. "I think it doesn't matter anyhow, if your movies are good or bad."

"Why?" I asked, a little breathless. It was like the scene at _Stars and Lovers_, when I meet my hero (starring Mike Newton) who's just killed my captor (played by Academy Award Nominee Tyler Crowley). "Why wouldn't it matter?" I repeated.

_Because I've come for you, and, now that I've met you, I think leaving you would be disastrous_.

When you start quoting characters from movies wherein you acted, you know you've become a bit egotistical.

"You're very nice now," Edward said. "And I get this feeling that you don't usually act like this out..._there_."

I had to smile at that, because, "Yes, you're right on the spot with that assumption, Mister Cullen."

He grinned. "Don't you mean _Doctor_ Cullen? If I'm gonna be the next Oppenheimer and create an atomic bomb, I should get his title too."

"Hey!" I nudged his elbow with mine. "I actually remember that guy from history! Or maybe that was from Big Bang Theory."

"I actually watched one episode of that show," he said proudly.

"Doesn't it have all these physicists in it?" I baited him.

Edward laughed. "That wasn't the _only_ reason I watched it." I gave him a knowing look. "The girl's cute there, but she's kinda empty headed."

"Oh." For some reason, I took this as if he meant _I _was empty-headed. Which may be true.

"I don't mean you, you know," he stated. "You're obviously attractive, and I assume you get that a lot. Perhaps you just need someone to tell you your smart as well."

Now I scoffed. "Lies," I coughed.

"I'll take your sarcasm as evidence that I'm right," he said smugly.

"You smart, scientific method using people," I spat.

"And you beautiful, million dollar makeover receiving people," he countered calmly, coolly.

That stopped me. "You're manipulating for such a nice-looking nerd."

"You're not that stereotypical either." He inched his face closer. "You wear no makeup, you have no handbag, and your shoes look as if you're the one who's actually dirtied them with wear. And yet you're a celebrity."

"Maybe I'm not a well-known celebrity."

He smirked, and that expression had an entirely new effect on me. "Judging by the way you deny you're famous," he said quietly, "You must be big. I am undoubtedly the least informed _genius_ out there."

We heard movement on the other side of the shelf. One of the librarians pushed a cart around, returning books to their proper places.

"I should get home," he said, just as I decided the same thing in my head. He began packing up. He placed his books neatly into a black backpack that had been sitting on one of the other chairs. I watched him and fiddled with my wristwatch, which showed a picture of Hello Kitty wearing a bathing suit.

"Wait!"

He raised an eyebrow, nervousness showing with his biting his lip.

"Um... Which college do you go to?" This was just like that _What's your name_ question from before. His answer wouldn't matter after today, not really.

"En why you."

"What?"

"New York University."

"Oh, right. Sorry, yeah I know that school." He'd finished packing, he was all strapped up and ready to go.

I took my phone out of my pocket and held down the power button.

"Time to go, huh," he said.

"Ten missed calls, three voice mails," I read. "Yup, I guess they're calling me out there."

We started walking together.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"This wasn't some joke, right? I'm not gonna wake up tomorrow and realize I'd been talking to my nemesis at last year's Physics Fair? You're who you say you are, right?"

I smiled. "Yeah, no, I was serious."

He stopped just in front of the door. I looked out the window, stopping myself from going further so I could listen.

"So after this, I'll go home and pretend this never happened, and sometime from now I'll Google you and discover you're as famous as Angelina Jolie, and I'll feel like such a jerk for not knowing you." I didn't know if it was a question or not.

"You know Angelina Jolie?"

He gave me an angry look.

"You do know me; now, at least." I shrugged. "If it could be any other way..."

Edward shook his head. "Let's not hypothesize." He smiled at me again.

So I left, he headed for his apartment, which he said he shared with two friends, and then the next day I was on a plane to Los Angeles. Someday I would have to forget that afternoon ever happened, and I will; how long that would take, and more importantly _why_, I'm not so sure.

(:D)


End file.
